


Hugs are Free

by Imrryr



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Episode 5: Polarized, F/F, Kinda sad but like nowhere near as bad as the source material istg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imrryr/pseuds/Imrryr
Summary: Following Future Max’s instructions to lay low at Chloe’s house instead of crashing the Vortex Club party, Max and Chloe hug it out.  Episode 5, just before the end.  Pricefield.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, it’s a year late, but I finally played Life is Strange.
> 
> It has ruined my life.
> 
> Anyway, about this story: Future Max returns to the party and convinces Chloe to lay low in her bedroom instead of going after Nathan. Tbh, I get a bit of a headache trying to figure out what exactly Max is able to remember about alternate realities, and what she can’t. So, I’m going with the whole she-can’t-remember-stuff-that-hasn’t-happened-yet-in-the-other-timelines logic.
> 
> Rated KS for kinda sad, but not like oppressively so. :c

The world was awash in head-splitting brightness; a pervasive light which only turned the color of blood when she shut her eyes.  Even if Max didn’t know where she was - and yeah, she really, really didn’t - the way her stomach was twisting itself inside out was more than enough to go on.  Her future self had entered her body, had come back in time to change something, _again_ , and then left…

The why she wasn't so clear on.

She heaved as she clutched her stomach.  Okay, this was a lot more painful than she remembered.  Did it get worse with every use of her power?

Also, _fuck_.  What the hell had gone wrong this time? 

Footsteps rushed toward her, and someone’s strong arms were all that kept her from planting her face in the ground.  Everything smelled like fire, rust, and blood.

Then she heard Warren’s slurred voice, “Whoa, Max.  You know, most people wait until they actually get to the party before getting wasted.”

The party, she was at the party.  Her vision hadn’t yet cleared when those forceful arms jerked her away from him.  “Back off, I’ve got this.”  _Chloe_. 

Max could finally parse the blobs of color standing in front of her.  Chloe was the whitish blob, Warren was more brownish.  That blob backed up, indistinct hands up in submission.  Funny how he wasn’t scared of Nathan Prescott, even when he had a gun in his hand, yet Chloe Price was a different matter entirely.

Despite Chloe’s strong grasp, Max sank to her knees.  “Shit.”  The word was spinning and blood again streamed from her nose.

So much blood.

That explained the smell.

Also, god, this _sucked_.

What had she come back to change?  Fuck.  Why couldn’t she remember?  Fuck you, Future Max.  Next time leave a note or something, _god_.

Warren was only growing more concerned.  “Dude, _Max_.  You’re bleeding!”

“Dude!” Chloe said, pushing him away again.  “I said I got this.”

Gradually, the world rebuilt itself in her head.  She could feel the cool night breeze against her skin again, heard the bass from inside, and the mantra that had been running in her mind nonstop for the past hour reasserted itself, strong as ever: change Chloe’s mind.  You _have_ to change Chloe’s mind.  We could both die if you don’t.

Hadn’t she tried?  Confronting Nathan on their own was fraught with so many horrible possibilities - there was no way to account for them all.  He was dangerous, he had a gun, he was a murderer, and he hated Max so much by now that she might be his first target.  But Chloe would not be dissuaded.  How could she be?  It was all beyond Max’s power to change.  Chloe loved Rachel too much to listen.  To see her like that, the woman who had brought Chloe out of the darkest time in her life, lying buried and forgotten in a junkyard.  All her hopes and dreams ground into dust, like they meant nothing –

“Chloe, we…” she struggled to stand, she struggled to speak, she struggled to even breathe, “we ca-“

She didn’t finish her sentence.  Chloe was dragging her along like they were kids again, leading her, she soon realized, back to the truck with the same level of determination she’d shown when they left the parking lot less than five minutes ago.  Or, at least Max was fairly sure it had been five minutes ago.  Was it, truly?  It also kind of also felt like days.  “Chloe?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” she grumbled, before stopping abruptly in her tracks.  “Shit,” she pulled off her beanie and dabbed Max’s nose before thrusting it into Max’s hands.  “We need to get the fuck out of here, _now_.”

Max wasn’t about to argue.  The whole world was only just beginning to right itself, but as long as she heard the bass from the party getting softer and softer, like the thudding of her heart, she wouldn’t argue.

…

She’d fucked it all up again. 

Chloe hadn’t given her a lot to go on, but that was the gist of it.

Warren had taken their picture together, and Max, for reasons now both clear and unclear, decided to leap back into it.  Surely, Chloe was in danger and Max had intervened to stop it.  Beyond that, Chloe wouldn’t say, and Max didn’t know.  She didn’t remember.  She couldn’t.  In the other timeline, whatever terrible thing was looming over them hadn’t yet happened.

That knowledge wasn’t exactly helping her headache, or her stomach.

Stay at the house, Chloe insisted, like their roles had suddenly been reversed.  So that’s what they would do.  History would be rewritten… _was_ being rewritten as Max sat uselessly in the passenger seat of Chloe’s truck, fidgeting with the beanie in her hands while they rode down the empty highway.  Apparently, doing nothing was the right course of action.  Who knew?

She didn’t say anything when Chloe unexpectedly pulled into the parking lot of a shoddy looking motel.  As long as they weren’t going back to the party, or to the barn, or god, _the junkyard_ , she didn’t care.  Leaving the truck running, Chloe got out, singled out one particular door and banged on it like she intended to wake the hounds of hell.

Needless to say, Max was just as surprised as David to find Chloe pounding on his door at twenty past eleven.

It was a trip watching them talk as Max stood well back, leaning against the bumper, her arms crossed.  All those times David had never believed a word that came out of Chloe’s mouth, but this time was so completely different that it truly was like visiting an alternate universe.  He shut his mouth and listened as Chloe quickly went over what they had discovered in the dark room, and kept it shut when she began gesturing wildly, half screaming, half crying when the subject turned to Rachel and she stumbled over her words and messed up the order of everything that had happened.  David seemed to be barely holding himself back from physically comforting her when she told him exactly where Rachel’s body was.

Step-douche though he certainly was, he knew all about trauma.

Now David was on his way to the junkyard, tearing out of the lot like a man on a mission, with police backup on the way.

Chloe had him putting what little was left of his reputation on the line.  They watched him go, with a promise they would head straight home and stay there.  When she got back to the truck all Chloe would say was, “Don’t thank me, thank Future Max, she’s a really persuasive asshole.”

Max slumped back into the seat beside her.  ‘ _Oh_.’

The truck lurched backwards as Chloe pulled out of the parking lot, driving, as she always did, like it was her last night on Earth.  “And she’d better be right.  Leaving everything in the hands of asshole McStep-douche is the most fucked up plan I’ve ever heard.”

It was better if Max didn’t say anything.  Despite the confused mix of images swimming in her head, one was seared in there - would be there for as long as she lived - a memory of something that could never be changed, no matter what Max did.

Rachel.

Asking Chloe to do this… her future self must’ve been a lot more persuasive than her current self.

As the truck rumbled on through the night, Chloe’s face was constantly in motion.  She would grip the steering wheel hard one moment, then wipe her face clumsily the next, her eyes darting back and forth as she drove, as though she felt caged in her own truck, fingers of her free hand balling into fists, then relaxing, then clenching again.

Rage and grief were fighting a see-sawing battle in Chloe’s head. 

Rachel, who hid the truth, seemingly to everyone.  Rachel, Chloe’s only friend, who kept so many secrets from her - like her relationship with Frank, and her thoughts of running away with him...

Rachel, the girl Chloe loved more than anything on this Earth.

Max saw everything in her expression, but it all boiled down to one thing: no matter what the truth really was, no matter what Rachel truly thought about Chloe or Frank, she didn’t deserve to die.  She didn’t deserve to be left in that junkyard.

And meanwhile, memories of forgotten timelines continued to assert themselves as Max sat miserably in the passenger seat, head resting against the shaking window while the lights of downtown Arcadia Bay flittered by.  At this very moment, in another timeline, she and Chloe had been driving down a different road together. 

A dirt one.

Her heart had been racing then, and Chloe had been so angry… angrier than she looked minutes ago with David.  Max kept an eye on her.  Shell-shocked might be the word to describe her expression now.  She’d looked like that once before, in a universe when she shot Frank, before Max rewound and kept it from happening.

As they passed an intersection, the lights of an oncoming car briefly illuminated Chloe’s face.  For a second, Max thought she saw -

“Oh… oh God, Chloe!”  She covered her mouth as the real world and the parallel one meshed for one horrible moment and blood began pouring from Chloe’s head.

They truck squealed to a halt right in the middle of the empty street.  “Max?!”

The suddenness of the stop nearly knocked the wind out of her, but Max shook her head when Chloe grabbed her shoulder.  Chloe was okay.  They were both okay.

“What is it?”

Max’s hand moved to her eyes.  “The other timeline… I can still see it, unfolding.”  Not like watching a movie, but more like reviewing recent memories where a few things, some important, some not, stuck out, but the rest was just a hazy blur.

“What did you see?”

Darkness.  The empty junkyard under the full moon.  They were searching for Rachel… but it hadn’t been dark when they found her body.  Did they go back then, after the party?  God, why would they do that?

Chloe’s cellphone buzzed.  She grimaced at the number.  “Jesus, Mom.  Five texts in ten minutes?  Seriously?”

Max’s hand brushed against the bulge of the cellphone in her own pocket.  A text message… someone had sent them a message…

Then she remembered chasing after Chloe, a maze of wrecked cars, concrete blocks, and rusted wires illuminated by twin moons in the sky.  She looked up.  There was only one moon now.

The flashlight from her phone lit a hole in the ground, and she knew that place.  Then she fell.  She tried to rewind, but her arms wouldn’t work.  She heard herself call out Chloe’s name, and when Chloe turned around –

She buried her head in her hands again.  “God, Chloe.”

“You said I would die if I walked into that party.  Is that what you’re seeing?”

Max nodded.  But it wasn’t Nathan…  The shooter stood over her, regarding her as a hunter might regard a tiny, mortally wounded fawn.

“God… _Mr. Jefferson_?”

Chloe let out a breath.  “You really don’t remember.  Fuck, dude.  That’s… that’s fucked.”  She shook her head.  “I didn’t believe it either, but you - er, future you – were so insistent.  What else do you remember?”

“We went back to the junkyard.  I think… he must’ve drugged me.”  Her hand rubbed the side of her neck.  She remembered the pain of the needle now, could almost feel it piercing her skin.  The clock on the dash read 11:33.  At 11:33 in some other, now abandoned universe, Chloe Price lay dead, right next to Rachel’s body.

And only god knew what happened to Max…

Chloe hit the steering wheel hard enough to sound the horn.  “Fuck.”  A second later, the truck was wrenched into gear and tearing down the road again.

Max’s heart raced.  She didn’t want to go back to that junkyard.  Ever.  “Chloe?”

“Don’t worry, Max.  I wanna kick his ass so fucking bad, but I’m not stupid.”  She gritted her teeth for a moment before punching the dashboard as she finally, mercifully, let off the gas.  “Ugh!  Fuck.  I _am_ stupid, or I wouldn’t keep dying, would I?  But I’m not going to let anything happen to you.  We’re going to my fucking place, and we’re going to sit in my fucking room, and we’re just going to be normal fucking girls, and we’re not going to fucking deal with any of this fucking shit, alright?”

Max shut her eyes, suppressing a laugh which quickly died in her throat as the memory of Chloe falling backwards into Rachel’s grave played out over and over again in her mind.  How could anyone be normal after what they had seen?  How could she be normal?  “Alright,” she said, voice barely audible over the roar of the motor. 

Alright.

…

Joyce was still up when they got home, demanding to know where they had been.

So Chloe told her.

She told her everything.

Max slunk upstairs while they hugged it out in the kitchen, closing the door behind her so she wouldn’t intrude.  She had intruded enough for one lifetime.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she drew her legs together and hugged herself.  Had everything been changed that needed to be changed?  Fuck if she knew.  Thanks, Super Max.

Asshole.

She didn’t even notice Chloe entering until the door slammed shut.

Her eyes were red, but Chloe put on a brave face, even if her scratchy voice betrayed her.  “Hey, Super Max, you alright?”

She nodded, even though she didn’t feel super, like at all.  Absently, she picked at the laces of her shoes until they finally dropped to the floor, followed by her socks.  She wasn’t going to leave this room.  Possibly ever.

Chloe watched all this in silence, as though she were the one intruding.  “I’m, uh, just going to put something on.”  Max nodded again.  “Any requests?”

“Nothing sad.”

Chloe’s little half smile was so beautiful.  Max was glad she could still it.  It was the only reminder left that at least one thing had gone right; Chloe was with her, safe behind these familiar walls, and as far away from Nathan and Mr. Jefferson as possible.  “Yeah.  I hear that.”  Scooping a disk from the floor, Chloe approached the hi-fi, but just then her phone buzzed.  She cursed when she read the number.  “K.  I’m just going to take this outside.  Be right back.”

And Max was alone again. 

What would she do wrong this time, she wondered?  Maybe she should never open her mouth again.  Maybe she should just lock herself in a dark closet for the rest of her life and stay out of the world’s way.  Then she thought of Rachel - those pictures they found of her in the dark room - and she just wanted to throw up.

What a horrible place to die.

And had she not been there for Chloe, had she never used her powers, Chloe would have died alone, on a bathroom floor.

She shivered.

As different as it was, the walls of Chloe’s room were still the same.  Maybe it wasn’t the safe place it had been when William was alive, but it still felt that way, at least to Max.

Chloe returned a minute later, shutting the door quietly behind her.  “It’s done.  Jeffershit is in custody.”  She sighed as she placed her phone carefully on the table.  “They found some sort of date-rape drug on him, and a bunch of syringes.  Glad they got to him before he got to you.”

Max finally looked up.  “Got to _me_?”  Part of her just assumed she died out there too, along with Chloe and Rachel, even if that didn’t really make any sense when she thought about it.  Maybe it was less of an assumption, and more of a wish.

“Shit.  Right.  You don’t remember yet.”  Chloe began pacing the room.  “Well.”  She stopped, arms crossed tightly across her chest.  “Max,” Chloe’s tone was so serious, it made her throat tighten.  “You told me Mr. Jefferson drugged you… that he kidnapped you and tied you up in the dark room.”

Max buried her face in her knees again.  She didn’t remember, but the photos they had found were very eager to furnish her mind with all the material needed for a hundred horrible fantasies.  It wasn’t Nathan at all, it was the man she had admired for years.  The photographer she most wanted to emulate.  Her whole reason for coming back to Arcadia Bay.

It made her never want to touch a camera again.

“I’ve never seen you look like that, Max.  I don’t know what the fuck he did to you.”  Chloe stopped pacing again.  “Fuck!”  The cd case cracked when it hit the ground.  “I _do_ know what he did to you… Fuck.”

There was a deep void in her chest.  The very idea that she might soon remember what Mr. Jefferson had planned, that she would go through exactly what Kate had gone through, sent a chill up her spine.  For the moment at least, her head was peaceful.  She hoped that, whatever was happening to her in that other timeline, she wouldn’t wake soon.

Then another timeline asserted itself in her head.  One where Max handed in her picture, and Mr. Jefferson’s horrible secret was discovered.  Had that been the future she'd just returned from?  Or was it just one of many?

God, it was all just too much.

Chloe bent over the cd player, but maybe Max must have looked extra pathetic sitting on the bed, hugging her knees and staring so sadly at the floor, because Chloe forgot all about the music and sat down beside her.  “Max?”

She refused to look up.

“If you could use your rewind now… go back to any moment in your life, no limits, where would you go?”

The question was unexpected.  She furrowed her brow.  There were so many things she wanted to change, but it seemed like every time she fixed something, something even worse would happen.  Maybe a universe where everyone was alive and happy just couldn’t exist.

What would Kate say to that?

Max looked down at her bare feet.  She was tired of changing things just for everything to fall apart before her very eyes.  “I wouldn’t go anywhere.  I would just stay here, in this room, tonight, forever.”  You’ve fucked up enough, Caulfield.

Chloe brought her legs up and turned to face her.  “Shit, Max, you don’t have to waste your rewind on that, come on,” she held out her arms, flashing her a nervous smile, but waggling her fingers expectantly.

It didn’t take much convincing.  In a flash, Max threw herself into those arms, burying her face in her friend’s neck.

And then she started crying.  Great, aching sobs and muffled screams that made her think of when they found Rachel’s body, which only made her cry even harder, because how… how could something like that happen?  Why was Rachel impossible to save?  Why was Chloe?

Never in her life had she cried like that.  Never in her life had things seemed so hopeless.

It might’ve lasted hours, but when she looked at the clock it had probably only been ten minutes tops.

“Better?” Chloe asked.

She was still sniffling, but Max nodded anyway.  Chloe was so solid, and real.  Of course she felt better; like the last five days, hell, maybe the last five years, had all been a bad dream.  “You’re kind of boney.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Chloe was still here.  No one would get to her as long as they stayed in this room.  “I thought you would be bigger.  Don’t stoners always get the munchies?”

“God, you’re such a _dork_ ,” Chloe said, shaking with laughter.  “I bet you’ve never so much as touched a cig in your life.”

She hadn’t, but no way was Max admitting to that.  “Oh, and you smell like smoke and bong resin.”  God, five years had changed so much, but she was still Chloe in every way that mattered.

A hand stroked her upper back.  “Thanks, Casanova.  You say this to all the chicks you pick up?”

Max kept her face buried in Chloe’s neck, feeling the light beat of a pulse against her cheek.  “Never picked up a ‘chick’ before.”

She could practically hear Chloe roll her eyes.  “Guys then.”

“No guys either.”

The hand on her back stilled.  “Wait, are you saying that _I_ was your first kiss?”

Max tightened her grip.  The last thing she wanted was for Chloe to see her blush like some kind of loser dork with no life who totally sucked… or, uh, you know, whatever. 

“Oh, I am _so_ taking that as a yes.”

“You’re really warm.”

Chloe didn’t seem bothered by the sudden change in topic, and began lightly stroking Max’s back again.  “That’s better.”

God, she really was warm.  Chloe Price was a beacon of warmth in an otherwise horrible week.

“See?  Not so bad, huh?  And no nosebleeds either.”

When Max finally pulled away, she left Chloe’s shoulder damp with tears… and blood.  It continued to drip slowly off her lip.

“Shit, Max.  I told you not to –“

She shook her head.  She hadn’t, not since… “It just happens on its own now.  I don’t know why.”  Everything was falling apart.  Even herself apparently.

Quickly, Chloe reached over to the end table and yanked out a tissue, letting the box fall to the floor.  “God, you’re such a mess, Max.”

“I feel like a mess.”

Chloe gently wiped the blood from Max’s nose.  “Don’t blame you for being one.  Can’t imagine all the shit you’ve seen.”  Her expression turned grave.  “Tell me," she asked, voice low, "how many times have you watched me die?”

Max grimaced.  Once in the bathroom.  One in a world where William Price never died.  Twice in the junkyard.

God, the way Chloe screamed when the train was coming.

And then there were all the times when Max had failed, when she had to rewind over and over to find an outcome where Chloe lived; playing in a sick, cruel universe where reality bent to her will, yet where Chloe died again and again until Max found just the right way to untie the knot.  It was as though the universe was teaching her that Chloe’s life or death was just as meaningless as deciding whether or not to take that embarrassing shot of Victoria, or reversing time a few seconds to impress Brooke enough to be allowed to fly her drone.

“Ten… maybe twelve times.”  How terrible was it that she couldn’t even remember for sure?

“Christ.”

Max couldn’t look her in the eye.  She focused on the wall behind them, covered with mementos of Chloe’s life, a life she had been too scared to reenter for so long.  Pictures of rock stars, and Rachel, and wowsers… some very naked women.  Five years of life, abandoned by Max.  Some friend she was, leaving Chloe to deal with the pain of her father’s death all by herself.  Leaving her to go through countless other moments in her life without her best friend to confide in.  Did she ever have doubts about herself, did Chloe ever question who she was, or if it was okay to like girls?

That’s when Max had really fucked it all up, but there was no way to tell her former self to not be such a total ass.

Above the wall of photos were scrawled the words, ‘Just gotta let go.’  When had that been written, she wondered.

She wrapped her arms around Chloe more tightly.

Chloe chuckled.  “The universe has it out for me, huh?”

Max buried her head back in Chloe’s shoulder, the one she hadn’t got blood all over.  She didn’t know what to think.  It didn’t make sense.  Why did the universe want Chloe to die, but not Mr. Jefferson?

“I think… if I could change one thing, I would come see you first thing when I returned to Arcadia Bay.”

Chloe scratched her head.  “Shit, I was even more of a mess back then.  Part of me was still certain Rachel would come back into my life at any moment.  I burned every bridge I had trying to find her.”

Max couldn’t help it, she tensed at the name. 

“Still would’ve been pissed at you for not writing,” Chloe continued, “but I would’ve gotten over it.”

Well, at least she was being honest.

Chloe let out a breath.  “Don’t know what I thought would hurt more.  The idea that she might be dead, or the possibility that she would leave and never look back.”

The parallels between Rachel leaving without writing, and what Max had actually done were like a knife digging into her gut.  A knife that could never be excised.  “I’m so sorry, Chloe.”

“Shit.  Come on, Max.  Don’t cry again.”

“I’m the worst friend ever.”

“Shut up, you’re an _amazing_ friend.  The best I’ve ever had.”  She felt herself being slowly pushed over until they were both lying on their sides on top of the sheets, facing each other.  “So, how about it?  Is my best friend ready for a sleepover?” she asked with a little smile.  It was forced, but the effort was appreciated.

“Always.”

Chloe pulled a heavy sheet over them both, fussing with it until Max was as tucked in as well as one could reasonably be in a bed that likely hadn’t been made in five years.  “Sorry I don’t have any smores.  Could try to make some pot brownies, but I… uh, don’t actually know how to make those.”

“Eww, gross.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, Caulfield.”

Her eyelids were already getting heavy.  She would so _not_ be trying it.  “Thanks.”

“Um.”  Chloe blinked as she stroked Max’s shoulder.  “What are you thanking me for?”

She yawned, closing her eyes as she snuggled closer.  “For trying to make me feel better.”

…

Her dreams were terrible.  Easily the worst she’d ever had.  Memories of being tied up in the dark room, Mr. Jefferson taunting her with Victoria’s death, the muffled roar of thunder outside, her blood pounding in her ears, all mixed in with other things that had never happened.  Chloe posing for Mr. Jefferson.  Max declaring her undying love for him.  Victoria and Chloe making out on a sofa.

Okay.  Wow.  That last one was a little weird.

When she awoke, it was only to a light tapping against the window and the rustling of leaves outside.  Just the rain, Max, just the rain. 

Her head ached as she tried to separate fact from fiction, what truly happened in those other timelines, and what was a figment of her overactive imagination.

Chloe still had an arm draped over her.  Her voice was heavy with sleep, but those bright blue eyes were open and filled with concern.  She saw Max's tears and immediately reached out to brush them away.  “You remember more now, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”  And terrifying though that was, she was now living in a universe where those events had never happened, yet it would always be a reality to Rachel, and to Kate, and to maybe two dozen or more other girls, some of whom might be dead now for all she knew.  They hadn’t gone through all those binders…

How could a room so sterile and clean make her feel so gross?

“Do you remember how you got out of there?”

Max swallowed.  She didn’t want to talk about this, but she would, because it might be her last day alive and she wouldn’t deny Chloe anything.  “I focused on a picture I took of myself, just before I saved you from Nathan.  I turned in my contest photo, instead of ripping it up.  So, I won,” she continued, blowing a wisp of hair out of her eye, “yay me, and Mr. Jefferson was in jail… but, I don’t know what happened… I came back to the party… I don’t know why.  Did I say anything else about the future?”  God knew how she found that picture Warren took, or why she leaped through that particular photo.  The answer would come in time, she supposed.

“You sounded…” Chloe sighed.  “You sounded really freaked out, Max, like you had seen some heavy shit, like really recently.  All you told me was that I died, and that it was Mr. Jefferson who killed me.”

In another universe she was strapped to a chair at this very moment, her heart racing with fear.  The memory of Chloe dead on the ground refusing to leave her.

“It all came back to saving me.  God knows fucking why.”

“Chloe, I will always come back for you.”

She shook her head.  “Shit’s crazy, Max.  You barely even know me anymore.”

In yet another vanished timeline there was a very different Max Caulfield; Vortex Club member, friend of Victoria and Nathan, and fairly shitty daughter, if her text messages were any indication.  Maybe if she had been in that timeline longer, she might remember more.  Memories still mixed together in her head; fighting with her parents, being the perfect daughter, studying for classes, partying all night.

And in all those realities she was still a shitty friend to Chloe, even if she did write to her in that other timeline.  Wasn’t like she rushed over to visit her when she got that scholarship to Blackwell though.

But without Chloe in her life, Max was certain things would be even worse.  “Without you, I wouldn’t be me.”

Chloe stilled.  “Wow, you just use your rewind or something?”

“Huh?”

“It’s just your flirting technique… it’s improving.”

“Oh,“ Max laughed.  “No, not that time.”

Chloe’s lips quirked, an honest smile forming there.  “So, I have to ask: after we kissed, did you rewind to do it again?”

Her cheeks burned as she shook her head.  Okay, maybe she’d _thought_ about it, but she hadn’t.  A shadow passed Chloe’s eyes when she didn’t answer straight away… something resembling doubt.  “And no, that was my first decision.  To kiss you.  I never thought about taking it back.”

Chloe’s voice turned almost seductive as she skootched closer, wrapping an arm around Max’s back until they were really, _really_ close together, close enough for her to feel the warmth of her best friend’s breath in the cold night air.  “Really, huh?”

Just the thought of Chloe reciprocating had Max blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Aww, look at Super Max, like a deer caught in the headlights.”

She pushed Chloe’s shoulder.  “Shut up.”

Chloe only laughed.  “Super Max, but she certainly doesn’t have super strength.”

Max rolled her eyes.

She kept moving until she was holding herself over her.  “Hey, Max?”

Still blushing, Max wouldn’t look at her.  She glanced at the clock.  It was only four in the morning.

“Hey, Max!  Max!  _Max!_ ”

She couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing at how excited Chloe sounded; just like when they were kids and she was trying to grab her attention.  “ _What_?”

Her eyes lit up when Max finally looked at her, “Hi!”

It was impossible to keep the smile off her face.  “You’re such a dork.  Are you seriously still trying to cheer me up?”

“Is it working?”

“Yeah,” she sighed.  “It is.”  She almost felt… normal, for the first time in days.

“Good.”  Chloe frowned when Max started to look away again.  “Hey, Max?”

“Yeah?”

Blue eyes were staring into hers with an intensity that took Max’s breath away.  “I love you.”

Oh, so that’s what a heart-attack felt like.  “I-“  ‘ _Holy shit, Caulfield.  Holy actual shit_.’  “I - I love you too, Chloe.”  Of course she did.  She’d loved her for as long as they had been friends.

Chloe shook her head.  “No, I mean, like, I think I’m kind of crazy about you.  Ever since you came back…. I just, I haven’t felt so alive in months.”

Max’s mouth opened, but the serious look on Chloe’s face kept actual sentences from forming.  The irony of what Chloe just said was not lost on either of them.

“And I know I’m still kind of fucked up, but maybe someday we could…  I just don’t want you to think -”

Max reached out, brushing her fingers against Chloe’s cheek, fascinated by the way her friend's breath hitched at that lightest of touches.  “Think what?”

Chloe sighed as she struggled to come up with the right words.  “I don’t think I’ll ever be over Rachel, and… and I don’t think I ever want to be, you know?  She deserved so much more than what she got out of life…  I still wish she was here.  And you were probably right, she would totally fight me over you.”  She closed her eyes.  “Can’t seem to stop thinking about her.  _Fuck_.”

“It’s okay, Chloe.  I’m not jealous.”

“I’m still totally ruining the moment,” she said with a sigh.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.  It’s just… I feel like the world is ending.  I know you feel it too.  And I don’t want it all to end without… you know?”  She shook her head, laughing at herself.  “God, I suck at this.”

“Chloe?”

“Rachel… she’ll always have my love, okay?  But that doesn’t mean I can’t love you too, does it?”

“Of course not.”

A wave of relief swept over her face.  “Shit.  Really?”  Her teeth glinted in the light of the moon.  “Wow.  _Awesome_.”  The room was still dark, but Chloe looked so happy just then, so young, like her life had never turned to shit.  Max wanted to take a picture of the moment so she could remember it forever, come what may.  She felt for her phone, and before Chloe knew what was happening, she’d fished it out and was swiping through the lock screen.

“Hey, give that here.”  Chloe wrestled it from her grasp before Max could stop her, holding it out to get them both in the shot.  “Say, cheese.”  Max was way too embarrassed to say anything.  After the flash, Chloe smiled approvingly at the screen.  “Damn, look at me, totally caught in the act of seducing you.”

Max had to laugh when Chloe let her see.  They both just looked like dorks.

“Hey,” Chloe began, voice going soft.  “I’m not being too pushy, am I?”

It was so weird to hear her be so unsure of herself.  Even when they were kids, Chloe was still Chloe.  She liked to be the boss.  “Chloe Price, pushy?  Perish the thought.”

She lowered herself until she was draped over Max's body, letting her feel every inch of Chloe.  It was overwhelming.  “You know… the whole sarcasm thing?  Definitively a turn on, I’ll have you know.”

Max's difficulty breathing had nothing to do with Chloe's weight.  “That, uh, explains your love of Daria.”

“Daria totally should’ve gotten with Jane.”

“And _that_ explains why you’re on top of me.”  That and yeah, she liked to be the boss.  No surprise that Chloe Price would be on top.

God.  She hadn’t seen Chloe smile so much since they were kids.  How had she never realized Chloe was this beautiful?  “So, is it cool if I’m your second kiss, since I was your first and all?”

Max swallowed.  “You can be every kiss, if you want.”  Her fingers brushed Chloe’s hair.  Shorter, but just as soft as she remembered.  “I can’t imagine my life without you, Chloe.”  And she never wanted to.

The way that smile spread slowly across her lips...  “Damn, you _are_ Super Max.  Behold as Chloe Price, mild-mannered stoner, is completely enthralled by Max Caulfield's waify hipsterish charms.”

“Screw you.”

“You wish.”

Even in the dark, Chloe didn't miss Max's blush, and her grin became decidedly wolfish.  She made a show of deliberately stretching herself out along Max’s body, brushing a leg with the toes of her foot.  It made Max shiver.  In a good way this time.  “So, about that kiss.  I should instigate, cuz’ that’s fair.”

“Right.”

Still, Chloe held back.  When a few more seconds passed by, Max started to get a little worried.

Again with the serious face.  “It’s just… look, if things get awkward, or if it sucks, or if I start crying or whatever, you can rewind and let me know beforehand, okay?”

“Chloe, have you _met_ me?  Everything I _do_ is awkward.”

“I just don’t want to fuck up this moment.  It’s kind of perfect.”

Max took the phone from Chloe’s hands.  “I think we deserve at least one.”  She snapped another few pictures when their lips finally met.  Max doubted either of them were fully in the shot, but that wasn’t important.

The moment was perfect.

A much brighter flash of light lit their faces for an instant before a loud crack of thunder shook the room.

“Shit,” Chloe said, looking up at the window.  “It’s really starting to come down out there.”

Max squeezed her more tightly.  Figures it wasn’t over.  The storm was real.  Of course it was.  “Yeah.”

“Hey, it’s cool, Max.  Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere.  Now that we’re back together, I’m never leaving you.”

You don’t know that, she thought.  As Chloe bent down to kiss her again and Max met her halfway, she held on to the phone.  If she had too, she would come back to this moment again and again until time itself came to an end.  She would never leave Chloe behind.


End file.
